A Day in the Life of Alex Fierro
by Eagleshine
Summary: We all know that Alex had a hard life. That's practically common knowledge. However, most of it is shrouded in mystery. What truly happened when Alex was brought to the Fierro household by Loki? Who was Adrian? Who was her beloved Abuelo? What really happened in Alex's life? (One-shots, rated T for eventual suicide.)


**A/N: A Day in the Life of Alex Fierro is a series of chronologically ordered one-shots about defining moments in her life. Though most of this is based on headcanons, I'm trying to stay as close to canon as I can. If you have a suggestion on a one-shot you want to see, please leave a comment. However, please know that I have twenty or so one-shots planned and I may already have your suggestion on my list. Anyways, let's get on with the story.**

**Word Count: 3,471**

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José Fierro sat at his desk in his office, his brown eyes examining the papers in front of him. Everything was going exactly as he planned. By the time the sun rose on a new day, the factory would be his. Fierro Ceramics would officially go commercial and gain thousands of dollars. He'd have everything he ever wanted and his father's small business would officially be his. At this point, nothing could possibly dampen his mood. Or so he thought.

José sighed contented and got up from his chair, turning around to pull open the curtains. A familiar, peaceful scene was sprawled out in front of him. The sun rested behind the rows of luxurious mansions, the sky a deep purple that faded into an orange-tinted pink. The lights were on behind the curtains of his neighbor's window, a man's silhouette moving behind it. The occasional car drove past with its headlights illuminating the paved road it drove on. It was the same thing he looked at every evening and yet something felt off.

His brown eyes trailed towards the sidewalk, his lips curling downwards in a frown. About four houses down, the outline of an approaching man was visible. He shouldn't have been close enough to allow José to notice his fiery-red eyes or his scarred face. He most definitely shouldn't have noticed the fact that his hair seemed to be blond with hints of every other possible hair color. Not only that, but he probably shouldn't have noticed what he was carrying. To anyone, it would've looked like a thick bundle of blankets but, even from so far away, José noticed wisps of black curls emerging from a sleeping newborn's scalp.

That's when the man looked up, their eyes meeting. The blonde's eyes glittered with malicious glee and his burned lips were curled into an amused smirk as if he had just watched a child being bullied and was enjoying every second. José wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or not but he swore he could hear a stranger familiar voice whisper, I'll see you again very soon, Fierro.

Not a second later, he pulled the curtains close, almost tearing them off the bar in his panic. Questions raced through his head at breakneck speed, fueling his confusion. Who is he? What does he want with me? Why me?

The last question lingered in his mind, causing the others to stop in their tracks. José shook his head as if this would scatter his confusion and took a deep breath. "It was nothing," he murmured uneasily. "Just a man taking a walk with his child. It has nothing to do with me."

Even as he said it, he knew he was wrong. He had seen those fierce eyes and that mischievous smile before and he was sure of it. Whatever the case, it didn't matter. He had more important matters to worry about. With a sigh, he pushed the thought aside and walked out of his home office, shutting the door behind him.

...

It wasn't long before he saw the man again. In fact, it had only been five minutes. José had been sitting at the dining table, arguing with his father, Antonio, as his wife, Angelica, occasionally piped in to defend him. "I will be turning your minuscule business into something worthwhile!", José yelled, clenching his fists. "It doesn't mat-"

"Doesn't matter?", Antonio interrupted. "This is an art that our family has been doing for ages! You cannot j-"

A single ring echoed through the rooms, cutting the old man off short. All eyes turned towards the front door in confusion, a single question on their minds: Who could it possibly be? Another ring came, seeming more insistent than before. José stood up reluctantly, eyeing his family. "I'll be right back," he announced gruffly.

He headed towards the front door, resting his hand on the knob. Another ring sounded. He turned the knob and swung open the door, practically falling back. In front of him was the same man he saw earlier with the same dirty-blonde hair, fiery eyes, and blanketed baby. Now that he was in closer proximities, he could focus on details that weren't disturbing.

For example, he wore a white button-up shirt that was partially tucked into his navy blue jeans. A crooked brown and blue checkered tie was looped around his neck, looking as if he tied it in three seconds flat. Shiny black dress shoes covered his white socks and was probably his only piece of clothing that wasn't messed up in some way. Even with that and his scarred face, he was handsome, there was no doubt about that. His tousled blonde hair was swept to one side in a way that made him look even more charming than he already was. Not only that, but his red-brown eyes flowed with such intensity and glee, José was afraid they might burn the house to the ground. "José! It's so nice to see you again!"

He opened his mouth to speak, to tell him to get going but he found he couldn't. The man laughed, a joyous sound. "Speechless? I don't blame you. I don't think you expected me," he remarked, stroking the baby's soft curls.

"Who are you?", he croaked, finally finding his voice.

He smiled in amusement as if he was a child taking their first steps. "You don't recognize me?", he asked, feigning hurt. "Such a shame. I thought you could introduce me to your family!"

Sure enough, the sound of footsteps on the polished wood got louder. "José?", Angelica called, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who is this?"

The mysterious man laughed again as if this was a ridiculous question. "You must be the beautiful Angelica!", he exclaimed, placing the baby in her arms. "I'm sure you and José will raise your stepson to be marvelous man!"

José froze, his brown eyes fixed on him. Stepson? That wasn't right. That couldn't have been possible... unless... He froze a look of realization and horror on his face.

"Stepson? Sir, y-"

"Antonio Fierro!", he continued, completely ignoring Angelica. He took his hand and shook it, smiling. "You started such an amazing business, señor!Your ancestors would be so proud!"

"Thank you, sir," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "However, I believe there's been a m-"

"A mistake?", he asked, tilting his head. "No, no, there is no mistake. I assure you that this child is your grandson, your son's son."

"José?", Angelica said, looking terribly shaken as her grip on the baby tightened. "Is this true? Please tell me this man is lying."

José didn't answer, his voice stuck in his throat. The memory of a woman, swirled in his head. He remembered her flaming-red hair billowing around her soft, delicate face. He remembered her blazing amber eyes that were brighter than Times Square in the nighttime. He remembered her snarky smile that proclaimed she wasn't anybody's woman. He remembered how she pulled their faces together so their noses were touching and how she whispered, That was fun, wasn't it, dearie? Yeah? But our time's up and I gotta go. Don't worry. I'll see you again very soon. He remembered howdisappeared into the night as if she didn't exist. "L-Lola," he stuttered. "Lola Asgeir. That's what she said her name was."

Angelica looked wounded and Antonio looked utterly confused, staring at him like he'd gone crazy. The man, however, simply smiled but stayed quiet, probably telling him to go on.

"Who are you?", he asked again, clenching his fists. "Are you Lola's brother? Cousin? Friend? Someone?"

He takes, shaking his head so his hair whipped around and defied gravity. "So naive." He spread his arms as if he were expecting a hug. "I amLola, José."

"Impossible," he snapped, trembling ever so slightly.

"Nothing's impossible," Lola-not-Lola said, approaching him and cupping his face in his hands.

José flinched and tried to step back but it seemed like his feet were glued to the ground. That's when the man in front of him began to transform. His face softened and his cheekbones seemed to move up an inch. His eyes' color went from blazing red to dazzling amber. His hair lengthened and curled itself, turning red. Even his clothes changed, turning into a green dress that flaunted his- or her- slim body and sparkling red high heels. Even his/her touch had changed from strong to delicate as if he/she was touching something extremely fragile. "See, dearie?", she purred in the same feminine voice from his memories. "I don't lie."

"L-Lola," he stammered, staring into her eyes.

Lola released him from her grip, shaking her head. "No, dearie..." She began to change back and, within seconds, the man from before stood in front of him, mischievous smirk and all. "I am Loki, the Norse god of mischief."

José barked a humorless laugh, his brain feeling as though it was beginning to crack. "You're insane!", he snapped, his eyes landing on his wife who held the baby in one hand and a phone in the other. "The police will send you to a mental asylum!"

Loki raised an eyebrow and waved his hand dismissively. Immediately, the phone was hurtled across the room and the baby wailed. "I see you need some convincing," he noted and snapped his fingers.

Illusions, visions, memories. They took over his field of vision. They flashed by and most disappeared before he could make sense of them. Others, however, refused to leave him alone. A muscular redhead stood at the top of mountain, using his stubby hammer to split open the rock. Men were surrounding a blueish wolf, tying its muzzle shut as another man cradled a bloody stubble that must've once been his hand. A different wolf tore open a young man's torso, bloodied intestines spilled on the ground.

The scenes became newer and more familiar. Two stout men stood at Boston's docks, their eyes glinting murderously as they lead a family onto their boat. Elfish humanoids in police outfits escorted a large troll towards the police cruiser. Teenagers charged at each other with axes, swords, guns, and everything in between, laughing at the bloodshed as if it were only a game.

Just as abruptly as the visions started, they stopped. José fell to his knees, cradling his aching head. From across the room, he could hear Angelica sobbing and the child's ear-splitting wails. His father seemed to be almost unaffected, staring up at Loki with a grimace as if all the experience did was confirm his suspicions. "You all survived!", Loki chirped cheerfully. "However, it does seem like Angelica and José won't last much longer." He said this as if it were only a minor inconvenience.

"Heal them!", Antonio snapped, the old man getting to his feet. "I will not let my son and daughter-in-law die!"

Loki chuckled, shaking his head. "Antonio, you have spirit for a mortal man. I like that. And don't worry! They won't die!"

"They... they won't?", he replied reluctantly.

"Of course not!", The god replied. "Their sad mortal brains will simply crack under the strain and they'll go insane!"

"What?!", came the shocked reply. "That isn't any better! Heal them or I will strangle you!"

Loki raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "I doubt you can but I guess I can't leave you with the responsibility of raising a child at your age."

José was much too busy trying to deal with the unbearable pain in his head to notice him walk over and press his fingertips against his throbbing temple. More images flowed through his brain and the pain gradually eased. Unlike last time, the images came slowly and weren't as gruesome. The redhead from before sat on a golden chariot pulled by two goats, stuck in traffic. A women sat atop a floating Appaloosa, staring down at the ground. A one-eyed man stepped out of a tear above the nine ducks in the park, people continuing to go on about their day as if nothing had happened.

Loki removed his fingers and the scenes dispersed, causing José to gasp. He could think clearly again now that his brain didn't feel as if it were being hit by a fifty ton hammer. Even so, he felt strange. Different. It was almost as if everything had changed and somehow stayed the same. Just a few feet away, Loki hovered over Angelica as she took in deep breaths. While he had been recovering, his father had picked up the child- his son- and began cradling him, whispering a Spanish lullaby. "Alright then," the god said, clapping his hands together to get their attention. "Now that everything's settled, why don't we have a chat?"

"A chat?", he echoed, struggling to keep his anger in check. "You think you can barge into myhouse and try to drive me and my family insane and now you think I will chat with you?"

"In fact, yes I do."

"Why you-"

Angelica gripped his wrist, pulling him backwards. She had gotten up but was still obviously shaken. Tear stains coated her cheeks and her hazel eyes were rimmed with red from crying. She looked terrified and for good reason. "Please don't," she whispered fearfully. "You know what he can do."

"Listen to your wife, Fierro," he prompted. "I would hate for our son to be an orphan."

Their son. José stared at the bundle in his father's arm, his cries having been silenced. He had trouble believing that unfamiliar lump was his son, especially when his mother/father decided that driving them insane was a good idea. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the ground. He knew what Loki wanted to talk about and he knew how he was going to answer: no. "I will not raise that monstrosity of a child," José growled. "You said you're a god? If that's true, why can't you raise him yourself?"

Loki stares down at José, his gaze hardening. "You mortals are rather dense, you know that? I can't raise a child properly when I'm off in some cave, chained by my sons' intestines."

The memory of the wolf tearing at the boy's guts flashed in the forefront of his mind and bile rose up his throat. He swallowed, shrinking slightly under his glare. "How are you here then?"

"Like most gods, I can be in multiple places at once," he replied, forcing a small smile though it looked more like a smirk. "I am simply an illusion."

Confusion swirled through his mind as about a million more questions appeared from out of the blue. Even if he managed to survive the first truckload of information, he didn't want to risk anything so he pushed them all down. "So you want us to raise your child because you can't?"

"Exactly!", he exclaimed, looking as if he'd finally done something right.

"Maybe I didn't make it clear," José started, looking him in the eyes. "I don't want to raise your son. I have other things to worry about. Besides, why us? Can't raise him? Why not send him to an orphanage? Foster care? Anywhere else?"

Antonio glared at his son, holding the child closer. "José Miguel Fierro, If I heard correctly, this is your son too. I will not allow you to leave an innocent child on the street."

"Mi hijo?", he snorted. "Si he oído bien, es el hijo de un monstruo. Él no es hijo mío."

The old man was quite obviously enraged. He began to yell a number of Spanish curses that would've dirtied the minds of anyone who even glanced at the words. Loki raised his eyebrow, tapping his fingers together. "I need my son to be raised by two wonderful parents, no? Someone to keep him under control. When he's old enough, he'll be very dangerous, very powerful. Without the proper discipline, he could destroy this town in no time. You wouldn't want that, now do you?" Even as he said this, his lips twitched upwards as if this would be a very enjoyable sight. "Of course, I could do many things to you if you didn't oblige. Many horrible things."

The threat hung in the air, filling the silence. José took a deep breath and glowered at Loki. "Fine," he spat. "We'll raise your son."

He smiled, satisfied, and walked towards the front door. "Oh, and José," he called as he opened the door. "I hope you won't mind seeing me again."

His eyes darkened and grimaced but didn't answer. He received another charming smile and the door closed as he strolled out of the house. José's brown eyes were glued to the door as if the god would barge back into his house. Finally sure that this was going to happen, he locked the front door and stalled towards the stairs. He needed to do something to get his mind off of the strange events. "José!", his father called.

"What?!", he screamed back, digging his nails into his palms.

As if on cue, the baby began to bawl. That did nothing to help his mood. "We should discuss our current situation," Antonio started cautiously, bouncing the crying child in his arms. "Perhaps you and Angelica could spend a few moments to get to know your so-"

He was cut off by a humorless laugh. José's face was contorted with anger, his lips curled into a snarl. "My son? I don't want anything to do with that thing. Did I not make that clear?!", he screamed. He paused and sucked in the air in attempt to calm himself. "I'll tolerate it living under my roof but, for as far as I'm concerned, it isn't my son. Now if you'll excuse me, I will be going to my room."

He stalked up the stairs, the sound of angry footfalls soon followed by the slamming of a door. A minute of silence passed, the only sounds being the baby's subsiding cries. Angelica shuffled towards the stairs, gripping the railing as if her life depended on it. "Angelica, wait," he said softly, feeling sure his daughter-in-law would care about a helpless child.

"Please don't," she started, looking at him over her shoulder. "That child is the result of an affair, Antonio. An affair. Not just any affair, but an affair with a god that shouldn't even exist." She took a shaky breath, eying the child. Her hazel eyes were wide with an emotion that shouldn't have been associated with a newborn: fear.

Antonio nodded in understanding, his eyebrows furrowed. Everything was unfair, completely unfair. No child should've been treated with such hate or prejudice because of something they couldn't possibly decide and yet her emotions were understandable. To find out that your husband cheated on you with being that most definitely wasn't human was sure to arouse feelings of betrayal, hurt, and overwhelming sadness. Now to find out a child came of the scandal was even worse, especially when that child most likely held more power than all of them combined. No one knew what that power could do to an innocent baby once they could understand what they could do. The possibilities were terrifying.

He took a deep breath and bit down every last bit of anger. "Go... rest up. Today's been a long day," Antonio said apologetically. "But please, just consider raising him as your own."

Angelica nodded and walked up the stairs, filling the house with echoing footfalls. A moment passed. Then two. Finally, he looked down at the bundle in his arms, the child's half-lidded eyes looking up at him expectantly. A smile crossed his face as he stared back at those beautiful eyes: one a fierce, glowing amber and the other a warm, dark brown. "You are very special, niño," he whispered to his grandson. "Very special indeed. You are destined to become one of the greatest humans to have walked this Earth. You are Alexander Fierro, for you will be greater than all the men who share your namesake."

He was answered with soft cooing, the newly-named Alexander's chubby arms waving in the air. "Let's get you to sleep and pray to God... or whatever gods are up there, that you live a happy life," Antonio whispered, walking up the stairs to his own bedroom.

Sadly, those prayers wouldn't be answers. He would live a life of pain and sadness and a short one at that. Even if he wouldn't life a full and prosperous life, it was a life that indeed make him greater than anyone could've imagined, for his greatness came in his afterlife. Every event shaped him into the hero he would become after his passing and this was just the beginning.

Just the beginning of the many days in the life of Alex Fierro.

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**Another A/N: With up to three fanfictions I want to work on, updates will be slow so please be patient. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this and I hope you have a good day.**

**~Eagle**


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